Forty Push Ups
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Ziva and Tim have a small work out session and things get a bit intimate. McGiva.


"Ziva," Tim said as he stifled a yawn, "it's 4:00am and it's Saturday. Why do we have to get up so early?"

"Because it will get your blood running, McGee," she responded. "Besides, if we go running early we will not have to deal with other people getting in our way." She was currently in the Downward Dog position, her hands and feet pressed into the floor and her butt sticking up in the air. She looked like a human triangle. "Now if you are finished with staring at my butt, I think we should get going."

"I wasn't staring at your butt," Tim insisted as he laced up his sneakers. He was dreading the impromptu workout session, but there was no way he was going to be embarrassed again the way he had been the day before. The team had shown up at the house of a suspect, only to have the man start running at the sight of them. Both Tim and Tony had taken off neck and neck, but Tim's speed soon began decreasing while Tony's stayed the same. By the time Tony had tackled the man to the ground Tim was twenty feet behind panting and wheezing.

"Having trouble, McSlowpoke?" Tony had asked as he passed by with the suspect. He threw Tim one of the menacingly smug smiles, causing the young agent to glower. He would make sure that wouldn't happen again.

"We will start with a jog," Ziva told him as they made their way out of his apartment. "One mile. Do you think you can handle that, McGee?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"If you say so. I think, though, that we should start at a slow pace." She took off running. Well, it was more of a fast walk. Tim sighed, but followed suit.

The pair walked through the nearby park. They sky had begun to grow pink with the sun set to rise, though a few stubborn stars still shown. The temperature was cool and Tim was thankful that they were doing this now, rather than waiting until later in the day when it would be hotter.

"How long have you been jogging regularly?"

"I began jogging when I was twelve. I slowly built up my stamina over the years." They approached a wooden bench, which Ziva pointed to. "When we reach that bench we will increase the speed, yes?"

"Okay."

When they hit the mark Ziva began to go from a brisk walk to a quick trot. Tim followed and was able to keep up with her, though he found himself having to take slightly deeper breaths. "Do you feel tightness in your chest when you jog?"

Ziva laughed. "Well it's not as though my breathing doesn't increase. I simply push past it and concentrate on something." She began jogging more quickly, beckoning Tim to do so as well. "Let's go a bit faster."

Tim could feel his breaths becoming shallow, but he refused to give in. Ziva continued to keep a steady pace and was soon several steps ahead of him. _Don't stop, just look ahead_, he told himself. _Just concentrate on the trees and the sky…watch Ziva…do what she does…wow, I never noticed how much Ziva's butt shakes when she runs…it's like a bowl of Jello…okay, stop thinking that!_ he scolded himself.

Ziva looked back and saw her colleague struggling a bit. She slowed her pace so that they were once again side by side. "We can go a bit slower."

"No…no I'm fine," he insisted, panting a bit. His throat felt dry.

"McGee, you do not need to prove anything to me."

Tim allowed himself to slow down. The tightening in his chest alleviated and his lungs filled with air. Still, he felt embarrassed.

Ziva sensed his disappointment. "McGee, you should not feel bad. If you continue a regular routine, your body will learn to handle it. When I first began jogging I could not go even a quarter of a mile before needing to stop."

Tim wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or if she was simply trying to make him feel better. He appreciated it nonetheless. "I think we can go a bit faster."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "If that is what you wish." She increased her speed and watched in satisfaction as Tim followed. "Do slow down, though, if you need to. I do not want to have to explain to Gibbs that you died of asphyxiation during my workout."

They managed to jog the mile with minimal stopping. Ziva had to admire Tim's determination. Though he was red-faced and panting he continued to push forward. That was quite an attractive feature in a man.

"Is that the end of the workout?" Tim asked as they finished the run, ending in front of his apartment. Though his body was begging for rest, Tim hoped his time with Ziva wouldn't stop here. There was something very beautiful about the woman, aside from her obvious physical beauty. He found himself enraptured by the Israeli. Her English was scattered at times (a trait he found endearing) and she was much more intimidating than any other woman he knew (likely because she could kill him eighteen different ways with a paperclip), but there was something about her that interested him beyond simple attraction.

"Of course, not. The run was simply to wake your body up and warm it up." They entered his apartment. Ziva cleared away the area between his computer desk and his work bench so that there was enough room on the floor for both of their bodies. "We will do crunches and push-ups. Do you do these regularly?" Tim didn't respond. "Do not try to impress me by lying, McGee. I need to know so I know how many of each you can do. If you rarely do push-ups I do not want to start you off with one hundred of them."

"I've done crunches, usually about fifty when I go to the gym. I try push-ups, but I sometimes skip over them, especially if I'm stretched for time," Tim admitted.

"Very well, then. Seventy crunches and forty push-ups."

"Forty push-ups?" Tim looked at his arms. "I'm not sure I can handle that many just yet."

"I think, McGee, that you have more strength than you like to give yourself credit for. Now get down on the ground," she ordered, not unlike a dominatrix. In fact, if she weren't ordering him to do push-ups Tim would have been a bit aroused by the whole thing.

He begrudgingly fell to his knees and placed his hands flat on the floor. He pushed his knees up so that only his hands and the balls of his feet touched the floor.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

As he neared eight he could feel his arms shaking. His muscles felt as though they were liquefying and he didn't know if he could get to twenty push-ups, let alone forty. "Ziva," he grunted as he went down for his eleventh push-up, "I don't think I can do this."

Ziva knelt beside him. "You can do it, McGee. Just focus."

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

"I don't…know," he gasped. "My arms…"

"Don't think about them, McGee." She paused as she watched him lower his body to the ground for the eighteenth push-up. "Think about me."

Twenty. Well, at least he was half-way there. Still, he was tiring. "What will you give me if I get to forty?" Twenty-one.

There was a pause. "What would you like me to give you?"

Tim had to grin through the aching. Many thoughts ran through his head of how to respond to the question. "How about a kiss?"

"A kiss?" Ziva was taken aback by Tim's request. She would never have thought he would be so frank. "I suppose so. You get to forty and I will give you a kiss."

"No," Tim panted as he went down for number twenty-five. "One kiss for every push-up I do."

Ziva laughed, delighted by Tim's increased confidence. "Yes, McGee, one kiss for every push-up," she promised.

When he heard that, Tim felt himself getting a second wind. He pushed on, his mind no longer on the aching in his arms. Instead, he thought about Ziva's lips being pressed against his forty times. But why stop with forty? Why not more?

Thirty-eight.

Thirty-nine.

Forty!

But Tim didn't stop. He continued lower and raising his body. He was grunting, but smiling. He wasn't going to stop until his body absolutely had to!

"Fifty-three!" Ziva exclaimed as Tim's body finally fell to the floor. His arms felt like mush and his face was red. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cool feeling of the floor against his perspiring forehead.

Ziva helped him up and to a chair, gently rubbing beads of sweat off his face. "I will get you a glass of water."

His chest was tight. His mouth felt like cotton. His body was wet with sweat. His arms were sore. Still, Tim couldn't help but feel that it had been worth it.

"Here," Ziva said, handing him the glass. He took it gratefully and gulped down the liquid. She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as the water slid down his throat in large gulps. When he finished he placed the glass to the side and sat there panting. Ziva leaned in to him, her lips twisting into a coy smile. "Would you like to collect now?"

McGee looked up at her, returning the smile as she gently perched her body atop his lap. Yes, it had _definitely_ been worth it.

* * *

**AN:** Written for Smackalicious. I must admit that, though I'm really not much of an NCIS shipper, I've grown somewhat fond of McGiva. The ninja and the geek? Totally hot.

Thanks for reading!


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